Kyle returned with cold drinks. I chugged down water, although it wasn’t hot that day. It was actually cold due to the ocean breeze, but I felt parched anyway. I noticed the others were doing the same thing. Terry had downed his beer before I managed a second sip from my water bottle, and Bob wasn’t far behind, tipping his can to drink the last dregs.
“Monitor the amount,” Timothy ordered, watching Terry, especially.
Did Terry have a drinking problem? I wondered/ But as soon as the thought hit me, I knew it was silly. Timothy would never hire someone who over-boozed.
“As I was saying,” the captain went on with his lecture. “Whales are warm-blooded.”
That warm-blooded part was hard to believe. If I were a whale, I’d demand a heater, a sleeping bag, and a heavy wet suit, none of which whales had access to in the depths of the ocean. The water was super cold. Even in San Diego, the water that had sprayed us as the yacht chugged forward, felt icy. San Diego was a lot warmer than in the north where we lived. People did go swimming in Santa Cruz, but, but only in August or inside full wet suits. If someone dove into the ocean just in a swimsuit, they’d be shivering in minutes.
Yes, I know, all the whale blubber helps to keep them warm, but really. Warm blooded? Everything we were being told about the whales was absolutely amazing!!
An alarm suddenly sounded. The captain ran back up to the captain’s perch, or whatever they called it. He didn’t look panicked.
“What’s wrong?” I asked Timothy, not that I expected him to know, but it did seem like he always had experience with things I didn’t.
“It’s fine, Penelope. There’s no boat near us, and even though we’re slowing down, I don’t think it’s a break-down of the motor. No reason to get nervous, darling.”
Actually, I hadn’t been overly nervous until Timothy said that. But at that moment, I realized how far we were from the shore, from the concrete and solid harbor where we’d embarked. I won’t say that I panicked, but, we were currently in the middle of the ocean, way too far to swim back to shore. That was a a bit of a panicky thought. But not really. Not with boats all around. And the captain had a radio, and . . .
“We have a whale sighting. Look starboard. Over there, land lovers,” the captain suddenly said, pointing to the other side of the boat.
Like we had with the dolphins, the four of us all sped to the railing and stared out at the sea, hoping to see a fin or the tail-tail oil slick we’d been told to look for. That was what the captain had told us was a whale’s footprint.
A moment later, I saw water shooting up into the sky. “There!” I called out. “That’s a whale, isn’t it?”